


Half-truths

by paulatheprokaryote



Category: The Cruel Prince, The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Interrogation, Kiss scene, admitting feelings, also i'm like a third of the posts in this fandom rn so i'm super proud, bless his heart, cardan's pov, oh boy, romantic threatening, the boy has it bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulatheprokaryote/pseuds/paulatheprokaryote
Summary: the kiss scene from Cardan's POV





	Half-truths

"Why do you want me dead?" she asks him and he feels a wave of shame and dread wash over him. He grips the arms of the chair and tries to look anywhere except her. Every time he looks at her his thoughts are both too loud and too quiet at the same time. Cardan lets out a long sigh, putting his head into his hands. If she shoots him with that forsaken crossbow, it'll definitely be justified.

“You mean with the nixies?” he clarifies, stalling mostly, “You were the one who was thrashing around and throwing things at them. They're extremely lazy creatures, but I thought you might actually annoy them into taking a bite out of you." He shivers at the memory, recalling vividly the thunder of his heart in his ears when she was splashing around and agitating them and the consuming rage he felt at Taryn for causing the whole ordeal. 

Jude looks annoyed though and he’s discovered that an annoyed Jude is a dangerous one, so he continues, “I may be rotten, but my one virtue is that I'm not a killer. I wanted to frighten you, but I never wanted you _dead_." She gives him a disbelieving look. 

“I never wanted anyone dead,” he adds, thinking of Valerian. Corpse decaying somewhere near Madoc’s place. He thinks of how stupid Valerian was and how stupid he was for not doing _something_. He can’t imagine his body flowering and blooming or his angry eyes being empty and cold. He doesn’t want to either. 

She's suddenly pale, much paler than before and when she glares at him again, she has a flinty gaze full of barely contained fury. "So it doesn't matter that Valerian wanted to hurt me?" she asks, her voice hollow, and _of course it matters_. He had tried to discourage Valerian time and time again. He knew he should have done better, tried harder, but Jude always seemed like she could handle herself. She could handle anything herself. She looked empty at the words, as if realizing some uncomfortable truth, before her anger returns in full fury and settles on him. "So long as he wasn't going to _kill_ me."

"You have to admit," he says and his lips quirk slightly at the girl holding his life in her hands, "being alive is better."

She doesn't look amused though. She slams her hands on the desk with a resounding thud and braces her weight on it. He tries not to flinch.

"Just tell me why you hate me. Once and for all,” she demands and he sucks in a steadying breath, his mind already racing with half truths and deceptions.

He runs his fingers along the desk, inches from where her hands reside before he catches himself. "You really want honesty?" he asks, peering up at her through his lashes. 

Her face is hard, but her lower lip is trembling slightly. He isn’t sure if it is from anticipation or hatred or something else. He isn’t sure he wants to know.

"I am the one with the crossbow, _not shooting you_ because you promised me answers. What do you think?" she says and he tries not to glower at her. “Very well.”

He blinks a long, slow blink before locking his gaze to hers. He schools his face into a blank expression and if his tail is curling back and forth behind him, he tries not to dwell on it. 

"I hate you because your father loves you even though you're a human brat born to his unfaithful wife, while mine never cared for me, though I am a prince of Faerie. I hate you because you don't have a brother who beats you. And I hate you because Locke used you and your sister to make Nicasia cry after he stole her from me. Besides which, after the tournament, Balekin never failed to throw you in my face as the mortal who could best me." 

Her eyes are wide, shining thoughtfully. He thinks, if only for a moment, that she's definitely going to shoot him. Everything is true enough though. He is angry that his own father doesn’t care for him, although it certainly isn’t _her_ fault. He is furious his brother is so cruel, although it most certainly isn’t _her_ fault. And he hates the feeling of insecurity that has consumed him after Nicasia left him for Locke. And he hates himself that he comforted her even after she had left him feeling so much less than he had been before. And he hates Locke for toying with all of them like they are his own personal source of entertainment. None of it is Jude’s fault though. 

She snorts derisively and discounts everything he had just admitted, ignoring the personal cost of him telling her so much. It annoys him immediately that she never takes him seriously.

When she admits her own fear, the terror that she's been subjected to for so many years of her life, he feels his stomach churn with guilt though. He hates that weak side of him that is always so sympathetic to her plights. He wants to quell that part of him. The nervous smile slips into a sneer and he reminds her that he's the one bargaining for her life. 

"That's really why you hate me?" she demands, the doubt evident on her face. "Only that? There's no better reason?" 

He closes his eyes, trying to ignore her questions, not able to find a way around the truth of the answer. Then he hears the faintest of rustles and he peeks his eyes open. She's pointing the crossbow at his chest again and for a long moment he thinks she is going to shoot him after all.

"Well? Tell me!" He leans toward her, fingers bracing the arm of the chair, and his eyes fall shut. He doesn't want to see the face of disgust she's bound to have the moment he admits the truth of the matter or see the arrow fly. 

"Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop." 

She says nothing. He glances at her through the fingers splayed across his face and she's motionless, eyes wide in dismay.

"Maybe you should shoot me after all," he suggests, humorless and then she blinks at him and her face settles into hard angles and disbelief.

"You're playing me," she accuses and he wonders if she realizes how stupid that is. 

He can't lie. He can't be more direct. There's no way to warp that into something other than what it is. He knows because he's tried. He's tried desperately to transform his obsession with her into hatred, anger, jealousy, or even just plain lust. Unfortunately, it was none of those. It was something more. 

She's up again, dagger in her hand, and he can't look at her as she walks around the desk to stand directly in front of him. He flinches as the cold tip of the blade slides under his chin and she tilts his face to hers until at last he has no choice but to meet her gaze. 

Again, he flinches, when he sees understanding wash over her face. Her head tilts to the side, studying him and then she leans toward him, her face close enough for a kiss. His eyes are saucers and he feels a flood of panic and want take over him. He's warring between closing his eyes and closing the distance and shoving her away. 

"You really do want me," she says, astonished, and his breath hitches. Her eye twitches slightly and her voice is small, "And you hate it.”

The knife tilts in her hand so it's against his neck, but he barely notices because suddenly her lips are on his and his heart is pounding and adrenaline is ripping through his body and he feels like he's drowning in her. In that moment, he’s afraid that he’ll agree to any promise she asks of him. He’ll give her anything just for another taste of her. It’s more intoxicating than any wine, than any nevermore. 

He's trying to resist giving in, but then she shudders and his hands slip up her arms on their own accord. He tries desperately to stop himself, to control himself, because he's never had much self control when it came to indulgences. He’s worried he’ll start kissing her and never be able to stop. Like mortals trapped dancing to faerie music. He gives in, gives up fighting himself, and pulls her hard against him, knife be damned. He kisses her desperately, itching to taste every inch of her, fingers savoring the feel of her hair between them. They kiss like they argue, angry and constantly struggling for control and then he yanks away suddenly, startled by a loud thud. Her mouth is swollen and her pupils are blown and he can't help the bark of laughter when he sees the knife she had been threatening him with sticking out of the desk.

She staggers away from him, blinking and trying to recover herself, and he can't catch his breath. 

"Is that what you imagined?" she asks, as though she is the one punishing him. For a long moment his traitorous mind says that he should provoke her more. See if he can get more of a reaction from her. 

"No," he says instead, trying to be as indifferent as possible.

"Tell me," she insists. He shakes his head, discomposed. 

"Unless you're really going to stab me, I think I won't," he glances at her and her face looks as if she's considering actually stabbing him, so he adds "And I might not tell you even if you were going to stab me." Her lips curl around the edges at that and he lets out a held breath. 

"I am going to make a proposal," he says, changing the subject to something much safer and she crosses her arms. He considers his words, the plan he outlined while playing cards with the Roach, and then tells her what he wants. He hopes against hope that she’ll consider his request and that the kiss has left her with a more favorable impression of him than his outright torment ever had. He thinks it might have put him in more danger though by the glint in her eye. _Worth it._

"Get up," she demands. 

"So you're not worried I'm going to run for it?" he asks, but he does as she says. 

"After our kiss, I am such a fool over you that I can hardly contain myself. All I want to do is nice things that make you happy. Sure, I'll make whatever bargain you want, so long as you kiss me again. Go ahead and run. I definitely won't shoot you in the back."

For a brief moment he thinks her words are honest and his heart is swelling in excitement and panic and want and then he registers the curled sneer and arched eyebrow and he realizes _she’s lying_! 

He blinks a few times, trying to orient his mind to such blatant untruths, and then tells her “Hearing you lie outright is a bit disconcerting."

Her grin is cold and cruel, but his heart still skips a beat. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for Mnplo who suggested the kiss scene. :) All dialogue is from Holly Black's excellent story. I'll take requests for this fandom. AUs? POVs? Missing scenes? Whatever! :) I'm killing my nano goals this month. You can ask anon on tumblr too if you want. Or twitter? I'm @Paulatheprokaryote everywhere except twitter. I'm @ptheprokaryote on twitter.


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